


Samsara

by solsticezero



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: writerinadrawer, WriterInADrawer 4.04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-30
Updated: 2010-06-30
Packaged: 2017-10-10 08:14:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solsticezero/pseuds/solsticezero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This story is part of a short-duration writing contest. Please do not comment on this story, positively or negatively, until this notice is removed. If you are interested in this contest please visit http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Samsara

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a short-duration writing contest. Please do not comment on this story, positively or negatively, until this notice is removed. If you are interested in this contest please visit http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer.

Suzie didn't know when exactly Torchwood purchased the monastery. Some time in the 70's, she thought, but she wasn't sure. It didn't matter; it was here now, and she stood looking up at the brick-and-wood building from the front path. Trees draped down on either side of her, flowerbeds unkept, untouched since the last time Torchwood was locked out. Some time in the 90's? It still didn't matter. She slipped the keycard from her pocket and mounted the steps.

Jack sent her here while he and Tosh and Owen went off and did something actually _taxing_. It needed doing, she supposed. If the Hub was going to be sealed for the next several weeks, they needed the backup location to be at least _livable_. And she needed to take stock. The alien virus keeping them from entering the Hub was also keeping them from retrieving kit and medical supplies.

She ran the keycard through the reader and turned the doorknob, letting the door swing open.

She heard movement somewhere in the building, then a door opening and slamming closed.

Her hand dropped to the gun at her hip, and she pulled it from the holster, holding it low and to the side, hurrying through the monastery. She burst through a door in time to see a man trying to flee in the blinding sun. "Stop or I'll shoot!" she shouted, bringing up the gun.

The man stopped. He slowly lifted his hands and turned around.

"How did you get in here?" she called across the courtyard. It was paved in cobblestone, choked with trees and hedges, prayer flags strung and fluttering above them.

"I had the codes." He was Welsh. And surprisingly calm for someone with his hands up.

"How?"

"I'm a survivor of Torchwood One." His eyes left the gun and met hers. The space between them seemed to shrink. She could see the flutter of prayer flags over his shoulder, blue and white and red and green and yellow. They were tattered and old, but when the sun hit them they still looked bright.

"What's your name?"

"Please," he said. He kept his eyes on hers. "I just needed medication. I won't be back."

"Medication for what?"

"Please." His voice was earnest, almost stern. "Just let me leave."

She watched him. His paleness, the careful way he held himself, the obvious _Torchwood_ about him. She sighed and lowered the gun. "Fine," she said. "Get going. If you're going to break in again, don't do it for a month or two. We're locked out."

He looked almost amused as he lowered his arms. It made her want to raise the gun again. "Thank you, Miss Costello."

"How do you--"

But he was already gone, running for the other side of the building, the back way out. She holstered the gun, annoyed, then went back inside to see what was missing.

When he showed up with Jack and a pteranodon two months later, she didn't say a word.

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of a short-duration writing contest. Please do not comment on this story, positively or negatively, until this notice is removed. If you are interested in this contest please visit http://community.livejournal.com/writerinadrawer.


End file.
